Change Of Events
by 0mohni0
Summary: Draco was standing with his back to the door, white-blonde head bowed. He gasped and gulped and, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder. Warnings: SLASH, Storyline never really thought out.


This is written for Zoha and Nirmeen, because I think they should be rewarded for making it through the exams alive. Hope you like it!

Rated: R (LOL, I make you gasp, didn't I, Zoha?)

Title: Change of Events

_Draco was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching on either side of the sink, white-blonde head bowed._

"_Don't" Crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. "Don't...tell me what's wrong....I can help you...."_

"_No one can help me." Said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. "I can't do it...I can't....it won't work....and unless I do it soon...he says he'll kill me..."_

_And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot that Malfoy was crying — actually crying— tears streaming down his pale face and into the grimy basin._

_Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder._

Harry darted behind the cubicle wall, and shoved his hands in his pockets in search of his cloak. Finally, his hand brushed the light, silvery fabric he was searching for and he pulled it over his head; pinning himself against the wall and barely daring to breathe. He didn't know why he was bothering to hide from Draco, after all, they had fought so many times before, things couldn't possibly be worse now. At least, that was what his head told him. But something prevented him from coming into the open. He didn't want to see the other boy in his state of shame, let the other man know that he had been seen in his worse moment.

Call it common curtsey or respect for enemies, Harry didn't emerge from his hiding spot until at least twenty minutes later. Moaning Myrtle was long gone, having traveled down one of the toilets to another bathroom. The bathroom echoed with every sniff Malfoy took, every gulp of air.

"—I'll jinx you." Malfoy said, seemingly out of the blue, yet his eyes were fixed on where Harry was hiding.

The bespeckled boy took a few steps towards Malfoy, taking care to remain quiet. He was pleased to see that Malfoy hadn't detected his movement, and was still glaring with teary eyes at the spot he was in a minute ago.

He was walking closer and closer to Malfoy—why was he going closer to his arch-nemesis? Nothing made sense. Malfoy wasn't supposed to be crying, he wasn't supposed to be hiding, they both weren't even supposed to be in the girl's washrooms!

Shakily, he reached out and grabbed hold of the blonde boy's shoulder, and Malfoy gasped a bit at the contact. He had probably been caught-off guard at the sudden movement, Harry thought. Because Malfoy wasn't supposed to gasp. He was too....snobby, too snooty, too _perfect_ to gasp like something surprised him.

"P-potter." His voce cracked.

Harry felt an immense urge to just embrace the other boy, and tell to stop crying, because it wasn't Malfoy-ish in the least and it was freaking him out.

He never got around to saying anything to the boy who so acutely needed comfort, since at that moment, a cubicle door opened. Malfoy's head shot in that direction, most probably, thought Harry, wondering how I could be in two different places in once.

But he wasn't in two places. It was only a gust of wind pushing at the door, and slowly, realization dawned on Malfoy's face as he turned his head slowly to look at where Harry's invisible hand was gripping his shoulder.

"Let me go, Potter." His voice quivered.

Harry's voice was a whisper; it felt too embarrassing to say anything too loud. "You were crying."

The other boy visibly blushed. "None of your business."

"Yes it is." Harry argued, although he knew Malfoy was right. It was _none_ of his business.

"Y-You're my enemy! Why the hell are you—Let go!" Malfoy struggled against Harry's hand, but by this time Harry had sufficiently gained enough grip on the other boy's shoulder to keep hold.

He stayed silent as Malfoy thrashed; his voice shrill with demands to release him immediately. Finally, the blonde man calmed down. Breathing heavily, he shook Harry's hand off and glared at where he thought the bespeckled boy was positioned.

"I." He punctuated the words heavily as they shot out of his mouth like bullets. Short, and to the point. "Am. Your. Enemy. Why the hell do you care whether I was crying or not?"

Although Draco couldn't see it, Harry's eyebrows were knitted as he pondered the answer to this question. "I....Because you're not supposed to be crying!" He retorted.

"And why not?!" Draco glared. He leaned forward and ripped the cloak off of Harry's head. It landed in a silver heap on the cool marble floor.

"You just don't do it, okay? Draco does not cry!" As soon as the sentence had slipped out of his mouth; he'd realized that he'd called Draco by his first name. Malfoy seemed to have noticed it too, and his anger mounted. "Potter." He hissed, taking particular pleasure in calling Harry by his formal name.

"Don't cross your limits."

He turned and huffed away, but before he could get as far as the door, Harry had raised his wand and captured him in a full-body-bind curse.

"Potter!" He yelped as he fell with a dull thud on the floor. Harry knelt by him. Brushing a few golden strands of hair from his face behind his ear, he said, "You don't need to be such a tight-ass all the time, you know. Moaning Myrtle can't be of much help with your problems...." His thoughts drifted off for a moment, and he re-assessed what he wanted to say. All that came to his mind was something about 'Malfoy not crying', and how vulnerable he looked lying on the floor with his teary eyes and quivering, trembling lip.

"But I can at least listen." He heard himself say, and froze for a moment. Was he possessed? Since when did _he_ ever become the expert at comforting crying death eaters?

Malfoy looked away from his eyes—before, he had been glaring daggers—and off to the side.

"Listen? I don't need your sympathy." He said quietly, more to the floor than to Harry.

"It isn't pity." Harry insisted, even though he didn't know what that feeling was himself. It was just a tremendous urge to pull Malfoy into a hug, and tell him to stop being so wimpy. It grated on his nerves, to see someone so prissy, so beautiful, a wreck like this.

"Genuine empathy, eh?" Malfoy snorted, but softly, and there was still a sorrowful tone in his voice.

"What were you saying before?" Harry pressed on. "Who was going to kill you? What couldn't you do?"

Draco closed his eyes as if whipped in the back. Tears oozed out of the closed eyelids, off of the hook of his nose and dripped onto the floor.

Something boiled up inside Harry—before he knew what he was doing, he had released the body-bind curse on Malfoy's lean figure, and was just sitting there, dazed, waiting for Draco to make the next move.

"I—I can't do it...." Malfoy was repeating what he said to Moaning Myrtle, but Harry sensed that now wasn't the best time to intervene.

At once, though, the other boy seemed to realize what he was doing, and who he was with; his shocking blue eyes shot open, livid.

Almost as if in panic, he looked around, for an escape route, somewhere to go away from it all, but there was none. Life would be alot easier if it allowed time-outs.

"Draco..." Harry began tentatively. Draco's head swirled to look at him, and his hand twitched towards his wand, but before he could act, Harry had had enough.

His insides were leaping with a strange pitying, softening sensation—he could cry at Malfoy's state.

Something seemed to prevailing in Draco's mind, as soon as he set his eyes upon Harry, a new flood of tears gushed from his eyes and he gasped and sobbed for breath.

"That's enough!" Harry said fiercely, grabbing Draco around the middle and pulling him into an awkward hug. He didn't need the other boy to fit perfectly in his arms, he just needed something to do about this possessiveness that suddenly took a hold of him—he wanted to protect Draco from whatever he was scared of. Do whatever Draco couldn't do for himself. His arms tightened around the other boy's chest, and Malfoy quieted his gasping; now only sniffling against his neck.

"Y-You..." Harry's throat felt dry. "Don't need to do anything that you don't want to do."

As if to assure Draco of his words, he patted his back consolingly.

"I-I do." Was all the answer Draco gave, until Harry questioned him again. "What's wrong? Come on; just say it and you'll feel better."

"He'll kill me....if I can't do it." Draco whispered against Harry's neck. Somehow he realized that Potter was the worse person to be comforting him right now, but he was the _only_ person comforting him right now. No one else had bothered, not even noticed how pale he seemed to be looking these days. No one thought anything of the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, nor did his bunk-mates hear his muffled crying and gasping at night when the nightmares plagued him.

Nightmares of everything he lived for being killed in a sweep of a pale, cruel hand.

Harry leaned so that Draco was in more of a comfortable position, even though it strained his own spine. "Who? Do what?"

But no more words would come to Draco, no matter how hard he struggled to force them out through his pale lips. Teeth chattering pitifully and eyes dull, Harry had no doubt that if the other boy tried anything more, he'd either burst into another emotional wreck, or he would just faint.

Why hadn't anyone noticed the grey tinge to Malfoy's milky skin?

Why hadn't _he_ noticed? Was he really that cruel; that cold-hearted?

Was he that blinded by his Gryffindor values and childhood clashes that he didn't notice how badly Malfoy was faring?

Out of embarrassment, he lowered his face and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose; a habit he had since he was younger to hide his humiliation. "I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have pushed you so much for answers."

He got up, wobbling unsteadily, and without a further glance backwards, left Malfoy half-sitting, half-lying on the cold marble floor of the sixth-floor girl's washrooms.

Draco opened his mouth, but no voice came out. Why was it that in his life; every comforting moment was surrounded by a sea of desolate hours?

000

Harry hurried from the bathrooms. His neck was damp from Draco's tears, and for some reason this irked him immensely.

His foot halted in mid-step when a thought struck him.

Sure, he was embarrassed of seeing Malfoy in his weakest state, and also of his own cold actions in the previous year, when he had failed to notice how Draco was failing in health and seemed to be under immense pressure, but wasn't what he was doing now more cowardly and mean than anything before?

He was walking away from Malfoy! As soon as this registered in his mind, he was tracing his steps back to the girl's washrooms, almost running until he pushed open the heavy wooden door.

The bathroom was empty. He took three steps onto the marble, and called out softly, more afraid of hurting the blonde's pride than being heard by someone else, "Draco?"

"He left." Moaning Myrtle sneered from the ledge of the U-bend where she liked to pass her after-life.

"What?" He stared at her, incredulous. Guilt was already welling up inside for leaving first—for letting Malfoy be alone with his fears.

"You heard me." She sniffed.

"Oh." Was all he said, and something heavy weighed inside his chest.

He turned and began to sedately walk towards the door; surely there was no point in staying here if Malfoy was somewhere else; when Moaning Myrtle let out another cackle.

"Don't look so sad."

"After all," Her voice was soft as usual, (when she wasn't shrieking) but it held a detectable amount of malice.

"He won't be coming back any time soon."

The words dug at Harry's guilt like daggers, doubling—no, tripling it, and he slammed the washroom door shut behind him.

000

'MALFOY!' Harry screamed wordlessly, frozen in place, mute and invisible. He could feel the light weight of the cloak on his bare neck and arms, as well as the way it ruffled in the light breeze at the top of the Tower. It would have a been a brilliantly soft night if it weren't for the ominous air of the castle and the masked Death Eaters running and shouting at each other as they fought Order members.

Draco stood erect on the top of the stairs, with Dumbledore's wand in his hand. "Hello, Draco."

Draco stepped forwards, eyes flitting across the surroundings to make sure that he and Dumbledore were alone.

"I..." He began, looking down at his hand. "Have snuck Death Eaters into the school under your nose."

Dumbledore looked proud of his student's intelligence for a minute, and Harry couldn't help think that Dumbledore, as great of a wizard as he was, was oddly out of sync at some times.

"Oh?" He asked, as if responding to a question about the weather. There was silence as Dumbledore regarded the blonde boy. Draco shifted nervously under his piercing gaze; Harry stayed a prisoner to his own invisible body.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" Draco said at once, as if willing himself to challenge Dumbledore in order to prove him wrong.

He flushed when Dumbledore simply said, "Your eyes are innocent."

"You don't know what I'm capable of!" Draco said more forcefully this time. "Of what I've done!"

Dumbledore ignored the outburst completely, and went on saying, "Your eyes are fearful. What do you fear, Draco?"

"N-Nothing." He spat, but his tone was trembling.

"Everyone fears something. I personally fear my books getting vandalized." The head-master said, with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Well, you're wrong! I don't fear anything!" It was almost like Draco was trying to make himself believe it; his eyes were still wide and frightened, his hands quivered.

Dumbledore mumbled something incoherent, but as soon as the words left his throat, the Cloak slid off of his figure and the Full-Body-Bind curse under which he had been trapped had been removed.

Unbalanced, he stumbled forward, and fell at Draco's feet. The blonde boy shirked and jumped back—he clearly hadn't expected Harry to appear out of thin air.

"H-Harry!" He said in that breathless, startled way which reminded Harry of a mouse's squeak.

"Dra-Malfoy. What are you doing?" He jumped to his feet and kept his wand at the ready, running through a list of possible curses he could cast on Malfoy.

Malfoy regained his confidence. "What does it look like I'm doing? I am going to become the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eater." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Do you really believe that?" He asked, talking slowly, and trying to inch his way in front of Dumbledore in case he needed to cast a shield charm.

The white-haired head-master was kneeling on the floor, eyes downcast and face flushed in sweat. It must be painful, Harry thought. He wished he hadn't let Dumbledore drink that potion. His long white hair was plastered to his face; and falling over his half-moon spectacles.

Just a simple glance at the Head-master had filled Harry with a new apprehension and anxiety; Dumbledore was looking worse than he had even seen him. "Please." Harry pleaded. "You don't want to do this." He said, and saw Malfoy jerk.

"How would you know what I want to do?" Draco's voice was choked and high-pitched; it seemed like it was about to crack. "You never cared. No one ever cared."

"That's not true, M—Draco." Harry tried to pacify him, with opposite effects. Draco only grew more and more enraged; mumbling things incomprehensible.

"Is this what you meant?" Harry asked, and the blonde boy looked up to him in surprise. "When....you said that you had to do something." He clarified.

Draco looked at him wildly, eyes wide, and Harry wondered if he was even in the right state of mind right now. For all he knew, the boy could be acting under a curse; somehow this thought seemed far more pleasing than the possibility of Draco actually trying to kill Dumbledore.

He didn't look like a murderer, Harry thought. It was only the sneer on that pretty face which even made him look arrogant. He was sure, if Draco ever chose to show him his smile, he would look brilliant.

The blonde boy looked desperate, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Woven pale gold silk fell in curtains around his face; Harry had never noticed how Draco's hair grew _all over the place_ like his did. Indeed, right now, some of it was reflecting the dull light in the tower, and some was getting in his eyes and blocking his vision. Still more was lying around pale ears, and tickling the nape of his milky neck.

"You......listened." He concluded finally, voicing it like it was a blow to his pride despite the hint of pleasure bewitching his lips into a tiny smile. At once, the gesture disappeared and a frown replaced it. "I said I could—would do it."

He raised his wand towards Dumbledore, who was unconscious by this time. His old, frail body lay against propped up against the wall like a dummy model, head limp to the side. Harry would have been more worried if it weren't for the fact that he could still see tiny beads of sweat break out over the head-master's face and witness the rapid, feverish, rise and fall of the blue-robed chest.

He acted on impulse, he somehow managed to pull off the non-verbal spells Snape seemed to love so much and cast a shield charm between the unconscious professor and the blonde student. The power of the charm was enough to knock Malfoy off of his feet and he went tumbling to the opposite side of the tower before colliding with the wall and coming to an abrupt rest. Voices were getting louder at the base of the tower—Snape leapt up the stairs and stood, panting, on the top of the Tower. Harry was torn—who to save? Dumbledore or Malfoy? If it was seen that Draco had failed to kill Dumbledore, he would be in major trouble.

The bespeckled boy squeezed his eyes shut as he hit the ground after diving for the Cloak. The supple, cool cloth went flying out of his hand, and landed on Dumbledore's body, only covering the legs.

Snape raised his eyebrow at him; he whipped the Cloak off of Dumbledore.

Harry tried to stand up, hold his wand—after all, Snape was only protecting a fellow death eater—but his legs failed him and his wand didn't seem to want to listen to his silent commandments.

It was amazing how silent the next few seconds were, and how slow. Draco stirred feebly at first, but then his eyes shot open and he gripped his wand in panic. "Shall I, Draco?" Snape sneered as the blonde's eyes took in what was happening. The greasy Potions master had his wand pointed at Dumbledore—yet Draco's eyes were focused on something else.

He raised his wand, and Snape readied himself for a curse from the younger student for stealing his chance at the Dark Lord's favor; yet the spell cast went in another direction all together. Pounding of feet and voices of Death Eaters were getting louder and louder, any minute, they'd all be up here and then both Harry and Dumbledore, both would die; they had no chance, no protection, both were on the floor, visible—oh, why was his Cloak so far away?

It seemed Malfoy had become a master at non-verbal spells; he never had to move his lips. The next moment, Harry was both invisible, and suspended in the air. Death Eaters burst into the room with all of the subtlety of a brick; looking gleeful at the sight of Dumbledore cornered.

Draco had closed his eyes and slumped against the wall—it was Snape who did it. Harry's scream never left his throat: Dumbledore was hit squarely in the chest by a brilliant green spell flying out of Snape's wand. His head was jerked backwards, and his entire body was suspended in an odd state of limbo; stuck between inertia, before it topped over gracefully, head-first, off of the Tower.

000

Harry had always wondered, after all that had happened, why he still didn't have it in his heart to hate Draco. Snape, yes. Draco....whenever he thought that he should hate the other boy for disarming Dumbledore, guilt for leaving him that once alone with his fears would weigh down on his heart like an anchor.

Why did Draco need to do something like that? Couldn't he see he was still a child? An innocent child who has yet to discover the world; who is still in need of protection; a pup abandoned by his parents; a soul made to discover the world too early.

It made him wonder, in the end, why Draco had saved his life. After all, if he hadn't made him invisible with his Disillusionment Charm, and hoisted him up with Levicorpus, Harry wouldn't have been sitting here right now.

The image of the boy's eyes widened in confusion and surprise, and what seemed almost like regret, always made Harry shiver from the inside; yet it was imprinted in his brain. Before the entire ordeal in the bathroom, Draco's mental image in Harry's mind was one of him sneering at Hermione for being a muggle-born; something which incensed him to no amount.

The new one, Draco standing over the sink, or in the Tower, shaking uncontrollably, with tears rolling down his face, whimpering, 'I can't do it....he'll kill me, I can't do it!' just induced an uncomfortable feeling. It was almost like guilt, but there was pity and general sympathy there too, even though Harry realized that most people would never understand why he was feeling sympathetic with Draco.

After an entire year, Harry finally saw Draco again. This time, it was after he had ended the reason for it all, he had slain Voldemort. The three Malfoys were huddled in a corner, unsure of whether they were on the Dark side, which was now either captured or dead, or the Order side, which was celebrating.

As far as Harry knew, they were somewhere in the middle. Narcissa had helped him escape from Voldemort's clutches when she lied about his death; and Draco had saved his life back in the tower. Lucius had not fought in the final battle, preferring to go screaming for his son along with his wife.

He passed by them, having escaped from the celebration/mourning in the Great Hall with Luna's help. Draco's face was hidden somewhere in his mother's shoulder, and he was shaking as if crying.

A twinge of pity echoed through Harry. Acting on impulse, he pulled off his Cloak he had taken such lengths to hide under, and, ignoring the surprised glances and gasps of Draco's parents, tapped the blonde boy on the shoulder.

Lucius Malfoy looked as if he'd just tasted something very bitter; his face contorted into an ugly expression. When he opened his mouth to protest, Harry shot him a meaningful glance and said, trying to sound cold, "I saved your son's life twice tonight. I think I have this right."

Draco stiffened immediately. He hadn't noticed Harry's presence, and it was only from the bespeckled boy's voice did he recognize him.

"Draco." Harry said, and tapped his foot rather impatiently. Narcissa looked shocked to hear him calling her son's name so casually—he mentally slapped himself for letting it slip out of his mouth. Ever since the incident in which Draco had first let Harry know that he needed comfort, namely hugging him tightly and sobbing in his shoulder on the floor of the girl's washrooms, Harry couldn't stop thinking Draco of as 'Draco' and not 'bastard Malfoy'.

More than a year had passed since then, but it seemed since then the boy's emotions remained scarred as ever, as anyone's conscious would be if they had to endure the constant threats and overwhelming stress that Malfoy endured.

Harry cleared his throat. "Malfoy." Draco raised his head from his mother's shoulder, but still looked straight at the wall, facing away from him. He didn't reply, so Harry continued, "Can I talk to you for a moment?" He had half-expected Draco to curtly reply 'No' as he usually did; but instead, he nodded stiffly and turned to face him.

Draco's eyes were red when he looked at him, but he didn't break contact until Harry did. "Err.....a little over here." Harry stepped into another hallway, and Draco frowned at the distance between him and his parents.

"You don't have your wand ready." Harry noted, and said, trying to break the awkward silence.

"I don't need it." Draco replied simply.

"Why? Don't you think I would want to hex you right now?" A flash of fear swept through the blonde's eyes, but it was immediately softened. "If you wanted to kill me, Potter, you wouldn't have saved me before."

"Twice." Harry added.

"Yes, twice." He blushed and looked off to the side. "Are you trying to make me feel grateful, or incompetent?"

"Neither." Harry replied. "I was just wondering why you think, just because I saved your life, that I wouldn't want to hex you."

"Do you?" Draco asked, forcing Harry to pause for a bit.

"...No..." He answered, although a bit slowly.

"So? Why are you asking me to draw my wand?"

"I'm not." Harry denied.

"Why did you call me here, Potter?" Draco drawled, a bit of the old swagger coming back into his voice.

"We." Harry punctuated his words heavily. "Need to talk."

"Negative." Draco replied simply. "We're already talking. Say anything you have to say right now."

"You know..." Harry remarked, trying to seem nonchalant. "I _did_ save your life tonight. Twice."

Draco's eyebrow ticked.

"Fine!" He burst out, a bit childishly, but he didn't care. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Not here." Harry said, and Draco cocked his head in confusion. "Why not?"

"It's too long, and I'm too tired."

The blonde boy muttered something which sounded suspiciously like 'god_damn_it!' in an exasperated tone, and turned away regally. "Fine. Name the place."

"Errmm....Hogsmede." He blurted out, saying the first place which came into mind.

"Hogsmede happens to be huge, Potter." Draco frowned, already wishing that he could leave.

"Honeydukes?" He asked tentatively, wishing he knew where Malfoy normally went in Hogsmede. He didn't want to risk the vain boy not showing up because it was a 'stupid place to meet' or something.

"Fine. In two weeks." Malfoy said, and walked back to his waiting parents in the next corridor.

000

On the previously set date, Harry stood outside Honeydukes, looking up to the shop sign in anger. It was _closed!_ Out of all the days it had to be closed on, it _had_ to be today! Perhaps Malfoy had already been here and gone back to his manor, thinking that Harry couldn't meet him in a closed shop. Kicking angrily at a pebble on the ground, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, and wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, wondering what to do next, when a soft voice caught his ear. "Potter!"

He turned around, heart leaping, and saw Draco sitting in Madam Puddifoot's cute little cafe; one of the only cafes open today. It must have been a holiday or something.

"D—Malfoy." Harry acknowledged, and entered the shop, squeezing through the happy couples into a private booth. "Why did you have to come here?" He hissed; more than a little embarrassed about being in here—this was the haunt of young lovers, not the meeting place two former-but-not-really-arch-nemeses.

"Do you see any other cafe open?" Malfoy's acid tongue was epic, Harry decided. Sighing in defeat, he sat down. Malfoy seemed to want to prove his point, so he pointed out into the sun. "It was hot outside."

"Well, maybe if you weren't so sensitive of your _smooth, pretty skin—_" His voice got caught in his throat when he realized what Malfoy was wearing.

"_Why_ do you have a coat on in the middle of summer?" He hissed, "No wonder you're going to feel hot."

"I needed it." Malfoy muttered, and looked off to the side; but then came straight to the point.

"Right. Are you going to tell me why you called me here or not?"

Draco, Harry decided, had gotten more confident over the two weeks that had passed. Not confidant as in arrogant (lord knew he didn't need more attitude) but more comfortable with himself. His hair seemed to be longer than before too, and while it used to hang around his face before, it now fell in soft locks on his shoulders, softening the lines of his face, and bringing out his eyes.

"Hello? Harry?" Draco asked, waving his hand in front of Harry's face. Finally, he leaned forward over the table and flicked him on the nose.

Harry yelped and pulled back, rubbing his face with a pitiful expression.

"You're spacing out on me. Is this just going to be a waste of time? Because if it is, I'm leaving." Draco said, and grabbed hold of the table threateningly.

"No, no." Harry assured him, and blinked a few times to bring himself back in this world from his day dreams. "Before I say anything, you have to promise that you won't get up and run in the middle."

Draco raised his eyebrow. "I have no need to promise anyt—"Before he could complete his sentence, Harry had lazily flicked at the door of the booth: It clicked shut and glowed with the barrier he had placed on it.

The other boy was unfazed. "I can undo that, you know."

"That's why I need you to promise." Harry stressed, and watched Draco's lovely eyes display a range of emotions, from wary, to reluctant, to acceptance.

"Fine." He huffed. "I wouldn't run anyhow. I'm not a coward."

"Whatever you say, Malfoy, whatever you say." Harry grinned, suddenly feeling like riling Draco up.

He had no doubt the blonde boy looked cuter mad than crying or sneering.

"What do you mean by that!? Get on with it!" Malfoy ordered, and Harry placed his face in his hands, wondering how to start off.

"Well...?" Draco asked, also leaning forwards on the table.

"I was wondering...." Harry started, and then realized, in one stupid moment, that he had just forgotten what he had wanted to ask. Blushing, he tried to make something up—he didn't want Draco to go. It still seemed like Draco needed protection; not as much as before, with Voldemort breathing down his pale neck; but he still needed to get over the past and make a fresh start. He could still see guilt and uncertainty in the blonde's eyes; something he wasn't willing to let be.

"Did you ever resent the Dark Side when you were working for Voldemort?" He blurted out, and mentally slapped himself. Real subtle, Harry. Subtle as a goddamn elephant in a closet.

Draco looked at him in disbelief. "If all you're going to do is ask questions that I'm not willing to answer, then I'm going."

"Why aren't you willing to answer it? It's a perfectly valid question." Harry argued, and hoped that he'd bumped into a decent topic on converse on.

The other boy looked down, a hint of a blush on his face. "I can choose what I want to answer."

"Please?" Harry pleaded; doing what he hoped was a puppy-eye look.

"Ok, that doesn't look good on you." Draco said coldly, crushing Harry's pleading look with a glare. "Why do you want to know, anyways?"

Harry leaned back and put his hands behind his head, diverting his gaze from Draco's. Why did he want to know?

"Curiosity." He answered, with some difficulty.

"And why are you so curious about this? I would think that The Savoir of the World would have better things to do than to interview old Death Eaters." Malfoy responded, and Harry suddenly remembered why he had called Malfoy here.

"Listen. I am going to be a fully qualified Auror now, and if I'm the one to interview you, chances are you'll end up in your manor on house arrest rather in Azkaban."

Malfoy's eyes widened in realization, but immediately tried to regain his cool facade. "No one has arrested us yet, and it's been two weeks since all the Death Eaters have been caught."

Harry stifled a yawn, "On my request. I said I wanted to interview your family—you'll get off easier."

He thought about it for a bit. "Not that you really deserve to get off easier..." Malfoy's anger flared. "Are you trying to suggest something, Potter?"

Ah, thought Harry. Back to my lovely last name.

"I'm just saying that if you answer my questions truthfully, you might not go to Azkaban. I'll try for your parents too."

Draco's anger calmed, replaced what almost looked like pleading hope. "B-But why me?" Why me after all that I've done?

Harry understood his point—even if he now knew that Snape had been ordered by Dumbledore to kill him, Draco was still the one who had let other Death Eaters into the school, and killed some of the Order members.

So, why him? It was a weight on his conscience, trying to imagine Draco in Azkaban, no matter how many times he tried to tell himself it would be justice. Of a sort.

Avoiding the question for a bit, he remarked, "You know, we've been here for over half an hour and we haven't ordered anything."

"Not hungry." Draco waved it off, and Harry, grinning, conjured a parchment and quill out of thin air and began noting, saying out loud, "Deficient eating habits.....what next, ?"

Draco visibly colored, and scowling horribly, he snatched the parchment out of Harry's hands, ripping it up immediately.

"I don't know. Cookies and coffee or something." He said; avoiding Harry's raised eyebrow.

"You drink muggle coffee?"

"Muggles made that stuff?" He asked, genuinely surprised. Harry was pleased to see that Draco didn't make an expression of disgust and order something more magical.

After he had returned to the tiny booth with two cups of delicious-smelling coffee and a plate of thick, heart shaped chocolate topped cookies, he sat down.

Draco raised his eyebrow at the heart shaped cookies.

Harry shrugged. "Don't forget we're in a cafe for happy couples. I bet this will be all over the news tomorrow 'Harry Potter seen cuddling with Draco Malfoy in Madam Puddifoot's cafe'." He laughed, and the blonde man sitting opposite to him smiled a little indulgently.

He went on, feeling that the light mood was beneficial for what he wanted to say, "The reason I wanted to interview you myself was because I know you didn't want to do it. You were forced. So I don't think that you should receive such harsh punishment."

"H-How do you know?" Draco said, voice shaking a bit. Why did he fear someone reading his true feelings? Harry wondered. It would be wonderful to be understood; why did Draco fear people so much?

"If you wanted to do it, you would have put more effort into killing Ron and Katie last year. And you wouldn't have said that you didn't have a choice, back there in the bathroom."

Draco stayed silent.

"And you wouldn't have saved me last year, either." He said, trying to sound casually, but he knew the gratefulness shone through.

"I....I hated the Dark Lord last year. I never took him seriously before that, but in the Sixth Year, he gave me a task he knew I couldn't do. He threatened to kill me and my parents if I didn't succeed. He _expected _me to fail. He _wanted_ to kill all of us—he was only playing with me for an excuse he didn't even fucking need."

Harry figured now wouldn't be the best time to speak, and he simply took a cookie.

Draco's long, pale hands clutched the warm cup, running down the handle almost frantically, but he didn't seem he was awake of what his hands were doing.

"And at the same time, it made me feel like a traitor to my family, because they _still_ loved the Dark Lord. I couldn't fail, not for my family, not for our pride. I didn't know who to turn to. It was like my parents, I'm sure they didn't want me to do it, but had to no choice but to turn me into a Death Eater. It was only in my Sixth Year that I realized I had always held the wrong opinion about Death Eaters—I used to think of them as proud, noble servants of the Dark Lord." He sighed, and ran his fingers through his long gold locks.

"They were all scapegoats; he didn't care for anyone, not _one_ of us. Even Aunt Bellatrix, who served him more faithfully than all of us, and talked to him like a lover; he still didn't care for her."

"I didn't know whether I should continue my misguided dream, or leave the Dark Side. I had to continue it, I had no choice. He would kill us, and disgrace us. By the time I got you and Dumbledore in the Tower, though, I hated him with a passion, but was too..." His voice dropped.  
"...Cowardly....to do anything about it. I wanted someone to kill him, but couldn't help any more than hoist you up in the air and make you invisible before I passed out."

Harry was in deep thought. He had thought it stupid of Draco not to hide Dumbledore, and protect him instead, but now he realized Draco had done that purely by instinct.

"I didn't hide you because you were a better chance against the Dark Lord, though. Dumbledore could defeat him far easier on his worst day." Harry couldn't help agree more.

"I don't know what made me save you instead. I was too fuzzy to think. But, I'm glad I did, because in the end, you were the one who defeated him." Harry looked up and wondered why Draco wasn't smiling. After all, it was a happy ending, wasn't it?

"S-Snape knew I had saved you. He didn't say anything to the Dark Lord about it, and I thought it was strange, but then I thought that he probably didn't want to acknowledge my presence in the Tower and disarming Dumbledore at all, so I left it. I realized that he was like me in one sense, not really loyal to the Dark Lord, but unlike me he had another side he was willing to die for. "

The bespeckled boy took another sip of coffee, and thought the entire story over. Draco was innocent, wasn't he?

"And that's why you thought it was hopeless." He completed for Malfoy, indicating with his voice he was talking about the incident in the bathroom. For some reason, even thought more than a year had passed, the memory of Draco crying, actually _crying_, always gave him odd goose bumps.

Draco shrugged, trying to look causal, but failing miserably and merely seeming as if he was shivering. "That's it. Gonna cart me off to Azkaban now?"

Harry could hear the fear in Draco's voice despite his attempts to hide it. So this was why Draco didn't want anyone to get close to him. He had never been loyal to either side—and he was afraid of someone finding that out.

"No...." the bespeckled man said, pinching his nose in thought, while Draco tried to causally take another cookie. Needless to say, it just looked pitiful, with his hands shaking like that.

"What....did Voldemort do when you went back to him after helping with the Tower?" Harry heard himself say, and was as surprised as Draco; they both had thought the questions were over.

"Nothing too bad. He had wanted the job done; he didn't really care who did it." Draco shrugged.

"So he didn't torture you or anything?" Harry asked. He remembered not wanting to hex Draco in the Tower, because the boy would be punished.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." Draco said, and, at the same time, pulled away the collar of his overly-large coat, and Harry suddenly realized why he wearing that thing in the heat. His pants underneath were suitable for warm temperature, but he couldn't wear a shirt: there were a bandages on his upper chest.

Feeling hot, cold, and oddly woozy, he demanded, "W-What happened?!"

"Nothing much." Draco said, and put the collar back in its place.

"B-But it's been over a year....why hasn't it healed yet!?" He stammered, trying to regain control on his squeaking voice.

"It only started healing after you killed him. Some kind of curse, I suppose."

"How can you....stay so calm!" Harry almost shouted, and got up; Draco stayed silent and calm.

"Nothing else I can do about it, can I?" He asked rhetorically.

"Ok, you hated him, I got that. What about your parents?" Harry tried to calm himself and sit back down.

Draco lowered his eyes. "I-I don't know. Sometimes I thought that they loved the Dark Lord more than they loved me. It was only in the end, when they lied that you were dead in order to find me, did I realize that it was all a stupid mistake my father made when he was still too young to think properly. He had chosen his father's footsteps—back when he could have run away. And then my mother had to follow and me too."

It was all a huge chain of pressure, Harry thought. Family, power, pride and death.

"Malfoy." Harry said, and the blonde boy immediately interrupted, "Potter."

Potter? That sounded too formal.

"It's Harry."

"Then it's Draco."

"Err....sure." Harry fought a blush, wondering in what a peculiar way they had just asked each other to call each other by their first names.

"Draco." He began again, and this time couldn't keep the blush down from the intent way the other man was looking at him. "Err....can I give this to the Ministry?" His hand reached for his wand, just in case he had to cast a shield charm between him and his soon-to-be-murder.

"Give what?" Draco asked.

"Erm......this." Harry colored, and lowered his head in shame as he pulled out a tiny bug from his pocket.

"It's a piece of black paper. Hardly as large as my thumb." Draco pointed out, and Harry reminded himself that bugs were Muggle inventions, and therefore non-existent for the Malfoy heir.

"It just recorded what we just said." He said, wishing he'd inherited tact from his mother. Everyone always said that she was always very charming and tactful....

"What?!" Draco shouted, and the shop suddenly went silent at the sound of his voice. _I trusted you, Potter._

"Shh, Draco! Don't make a scene!" Harry hissed, but Draco stood up, eyes narrowed in fury.

"I don't know why the fuck I bothered talking to you; but I thought whatever I said would stay here!" He snarled, and stomped out of the shop and into the blistering heat of the street, leaving Harry bellowing, "Wait! This is the only thing that'll keep you out of Azkaban!"

When Draco had finally rounded the street corner, he realized that he was standing up in his booth, with everyone else in the shop staring at him, including the barmaid.

He colored. "Erm....sorry about that." He muttered, but loud enough to hear, and left a few galleons on the table, along with two empty coffee cups and two and a half heart-shaped chocolate fudge cookies.

000

Harry had no choice but to give the recording of Malfoy's deepest secrets to the Ministry on his hearing. Malfoy wasn't present then—Harry couldn't be happier. He knew, however much the recording helped him escape punishment, Malfoy would still hate it and glare at him, throughout the hearing.

He didn't want Draco to be angry at him—after all, if it weren't for Harry's account of Draco saving him in the Tower, and trying to when they were caught in the Malfoy Manor, and the recording, he would have been sent to Azkaban like his parents.

The Ministry still wasn't willing to be so merciful on Draco's parents, however, since they had escaped capture twice now; once when Voldemort had disappeared after Harry's birth.

As it was, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were sentenced twenty years in Azkaban, with parole with ten years after that, and Draco Malfoy was, thanks to Harry's effort, was sentenced to seven years on house arrest, with parole for three.

Harry cleaned his glasses in The Burrow, having gone there for a visit after the hearing. Hermione had been kept as Kingsely's private assistant, and was planning to become the future Minister of Magic, most probably becoming the first muggle-born Minister.

As it was, she explained happily to Ron and Harry, she still had a long way to go, but she was going to try her best. Harry thought that her opposers should be afraid.

Hermione smiled at him, and asked, how the hearing had gone.

"Fine..." He replied, before elaborating, "Lucius and Narcissa had twenty years in Azkaban, ten years parole, and Draco had house arrest for seven years, with parole for three."

Ron made a face. "That's it?"

Hermione smacked him on the back of the head. "Ron, twenty years! Isn't that enough?!"

The red-head whirled around to face his girlfriend. "I was talking about Malfoy's sentence!" He protested hotly.

Hermione smacked him again. "It's still harsh enough! Seven years in house arrest; all alone." She sighed in sympathy for the blonde boy and looked up at Harry.

"I'm glad you lessened his sentence."

Harry blinked. "How did you know I lessened his sentence?"

Hermione laughed a little, and Harry couldn't help feel ridiculed. "Harry, you do know that you're the kind of person who wouldn't just tell us the sentence without a comment unless you were happy with it?"

Ron sniggered. "She's right mate, you looked at ease with it—and we all know that you don't think Malfoy should be punished."

"I _don't_ think he should be punished!" Harry declared.

"That's what we were just saying." Hermione said in a bored tone.

"O-Oh." He said, and ran off, face burning, while Ron smirked behind him.

"You know, that might have been an example of Harry's heroism. Even when we have the same view." He remarked, and Hermione nodded.

"He's always had an odd affinity for Draco."

"Probably something about the both of them being so opposite, Slytherin and Gryffindor, that keeps him interested." Ron mused, and bit his lower lip in thought.

"I wonder what attracts _us_ together."

Hermione smirked. "Probably the smart-about-to-minister-of-magic and the not-so-smart-red-hair genes."

"Oh Ha-ha. Very funny."

000

He rubbed his eyes, and looked out the window of Twelve Grimmauld Place, the moon bright and translucent in the dark velvet sky. Like Malfoy's skin, he thought.

He was sitting up in his bed, baby blue sheets lying messily around his waist.

Harry used to think that he'd hate coming back to 12 Grimmauld Place, but he realized it was more than a bit comforting to think that everyone he had ever looked up to had stepped in this house. Dumbledore, Sirius (no matter how grudgingly), Mad-Eye, Lupin, Tonks, Fred, and even Snape (though he didn't know it at the time) were all people who died fighting Voldemort, and now that their common enemy was gone, Harry thought he ought to respect their memory by not forgetting them.

Looking at the moon on a sleepless night had reminded him of Draco. And how the other man was probably fuming with anger at Harry, even though he had kept him out of Azkaban.

He'd never seen Draco seen open up like that to anyone before, like he did in Madam Puddifoot's, but maybe he just hadn't been around the blonde enough. Whether he had heart-to-heart chats frequently or not wasn't his problem anyways, right now. Draco had expected him to keep everything he said a secret, and Harry had taken advantage of his trust without asking him.

He was so screwed, Harry thought. Draco was going to see him, pounce, and kill. _Kill._

Strangely, he didn't think of the threat it posed to his life when he dressed in fancy robes and prepared to visit the Malfoy Manor.

He stopped in front of the large iron gates and stepped off of his broom. "Am I supposed to knock?"

To his amazement (and a little surprise) the iron gates spoke in an ancient voice, "How about telling me your name and purpose?"

Harry blinked, and said lamely, "Err...sorry?"

The gate sighed, and Harry resisted the urge to laugh. "Name and purpose."

"Harry Potter..." He paused. What did he want to do in Malfoy's Manor again? "I need to see Draco Malfoy."

The gate appeared to think for a minute, and then swung open reluctantly. "Go straight through the entrance, and a butler will lead you up to the Master."

Harry nodded and propped his broom against the gate, slowly making his way towards the huge wooden doors. "Wow." He breathed, to himself, "Peacocks..."

And sure enough the blue/green majestic animals wandered in front of him, strutting proudly. Off to one side there was a large pond surrounded by rocks, and the rest was slightly yellowish grass.

The large brown doors were slightly intimidating in the least, with huge snake-shaped brass knockers. He raised one and let it fall; its thud echoed throughout the ground.

He picked it up and thumped it on the door about three more times before an old butler-type servant opened the door a crack.

"Here to see the Master?"

He nodded awkwardly, wishing he hadn't worn something so bright green to a place so drab, yet so lavish. Stepping in and following the old servant across the large hall, up the stairs and to a different wing altogether, he couldn't help notice the massive size of the manor. The feeble man turned around when they had reached yet _another_ intimidating door. "Mr. Potter, please continue from here." Harry wondered if Draco didn't allow servants in his private rooms...that seemed snootier than he remembered the pretty-boy to be.

Knocking a few times, he heard a distinct, "You can come in, but I don't guarantee your safety."

He laughed. It figured that only Draco would say something like that to someone who had come to apologize. "Alright, I have a shield charm. Can I open the door now?"

"Knock yourself out." Chuckling, Harry pushed at the door, and stepped inside. The second he did, though, a heavy book was chucked at his head—it broke his nose.

He did a funny flip in the air, and ended up on the ground, clutching his broken nose.

Draco peered over at him. "You said you had a shield charm." He accused.

Harry griped for something to help him up, eventually finding the edge of the sofa, and pulled himself into a wobbly standing position. "I lied."

The blonde man looked triumphant: "You deserved two of those books then."

"What was the first one for?" Harry asked, pointing his wand at his nose and muttering, "Episkey!" After the hot-cold sensation on his nose had subsided and he had siphoned off the blood, he turned his attention to Draco, who was explaining why he threw the book at him.

"For recording the conversation we had." He said simply. "And for being an annoying git who won't quit following me around. Are you my stalker or something?" He asked, idly poking a cushion with his finger.

"Not really. This is the second time you've broken my nose." He informed Draco.

The blonde shrugged. "You were stalking me both times. The first, you decided to come listen in on my conversation in the Hogwarts Express cart. And now you're visiting my home. God, Potter, don't you have anything better to do?"

"You asked me that in Madam Puddifoot's coffee shop too." Harry reminded the other man, and sat down on the sofa he was standing next to, seeing that Draco wasn't going to invite him to sit any time soon.

"Yes, well, I'm still curious. Are you here to record what I say again and give it to the media?" Malfoy asked acidly.

"I didn't give to the media!" Harry protested hotly. "It was just the Ministry of Magic!"

"And they went home and told their families about the poor Malfoy boy's plight, and the wives phoned the media after changing it to make me out into a sexually abused little dog by Voldemort, right?"

Harry gaped. "W-What? No!" He spluttered, but Draco went on: "Its not like I'm loyal, was ever loyal to the Dark Lord, but really, while he was cruel and mean, he killed. I don't think he _ever_ sexually abused anyone, yet it seems to be all over the media, with me as his pathetic partner."

"What?! Where? I didn't see anything—"He got a Daily Prophet flung at his face for his efforts, and he frantically read the top three lines.

"_Draco Malfoy has been placed under house arrest for seven years according to the Ministry of Magic spokes person. He has escaped with only a fraction of the years in Azkaban his parents received. Unconfirmed reports claim Harry Potter attended the hearing and acted as a witness in 's defense, saying that had been forced to do many things he had no choice in, such as becoming a Death Eater and being the Dark Lord's intimate partner above it all. _" He read out-loud in disbelief, before skimming through the rest of it before seeing the name at the end which made his blood boil.

"Rita Skeeter." He crumpled the paper in his fist.

"I never thought that Rita would do this. After I gave her that other story about Hagrid too." Malfoy mused, and Harry's heart gave a little boil.

"Yes, well, that woman would do anything for a story." Harry said, trying to calm himself down. It was a bit ironic that Draco would be bitten by the same dog he fed—or, to be precise, the same cockroach. He kind of deserved it, truth to be told, but Harry couldn't help feeling outraged at Rita's audacity anyways.

"You really shouldn't have done that thing about Hagrid." Harry reprimanded, and Draco stared at him coldly.

"You really shouldn't have gone and given the entire conversation to the Ministry, either."

"Look, if I didn't, you would have been with the Dementors right now!" He protested.

"Yes, well, it's not like you would have cared." Draco responded, and called a servant to bring in some refreshments.

After the old man had placed a few cream rolls and drinks on the table, Malfoy spoke again, "It stings more that you _snuck_ the proof. And lied."

"You wouldn't have talked if I told you it was going to the Ministry!" Harry exclaimed, poking a creamroll as if trying to test its quality.

"It's not poisoned, Potter." Draco pointed to the creamroll Harry was examining, before saying, "Well, I came when you asked, didn't I?"

Harry thought it over. It was true—he had asked, and Malfoy had come, even if it was a bit reluctantly. He looked away from the blonde's intense gaze and noticed his surroundings for the first time. It was large, just like he had expected, with the furniture contrasting a dark brown against the fawn-colored tiles. A few carpets here and there were black and every shade of green from emerald, to lime.

There were curtains with the Malfoy insignia, two snakes entwined over a wand, imprinted in black over the pale green.

A few antique-looking decoration pieces lay scattered across the room on various table-tops and there was a bookshelf full of dusty books. The evening sunlight filtered through the pale green silk curtains and onto the floor and rug. He noticed the book Draco had thrown at him, and squinted, trying to read the title.

"Wuthering Heights?" He repeated, unable to believe that he'd find that book in Malfoy's room of all places. "Isn't that a muggle book?"

"The only one of my hobbies which I don't mind Muggles delving into. They write good books, the Muggles, even if they're completely useless at everything else." Draco said airily.

"So...." Harry said, at an attempt to keep conversation going. "What do you do all day?"

"Personal training grounds, arcade and pub in my manor, Harry." Draco said sardonically. "What do people normally do when they're under house arrest?"

When Harry didn't give any answer, "I hate to be saying this, but you're probably the most interesting _moving _thing that's happened all week. That's sad."

"Moving?" Harry questioned.

"Living. You can hardly qualify a book or radio as moving. And that little old man they sent to take care of me is barely alive. They may as well send me Filch's cat after Blaise is done with him." The bespeckled boy laughed, inhaling half of his drink up his nose.

Spluttering, soaking wet, but grinning like an idiot, he replied, "Yeah, well, I wouldn't blame Blaise. Wouldn't mind hexing that thing a few times myself."

"A few? I'd like to _murder that thing dead_ and then feed him to Kretcher." Harry frowned. "Kretcher was a good elf...to you anyways. I bet he was much more cooperative with a Slytherin."

"And Dobby was always more of a Gryffindor." Draco remarked casually, but the look in his eye told Harry he regretted how his aunt had killed him last year.

A strange silence descended on the conversation, the kind which wasn't comfortable or uncomfortable. It was just _there_.

Finally, Harry remarked, looking out the large window. "It's getting dark."

"Going back to that Weasely girl?" Draco asked, looking away. The light of the chandeliers which had come on a few minutes ago was falling on his pale skin. His eyes were hard, dry and blue; lights danced inside them sedately. Swirls and pastel colors of emotion entwined, broke apart, and touched again.

Harry broke out of what he thought must have been a self-induced trance, "No. Back to Grimmauld Place."

"I thought you were dating her." Draco said, and stood up, but still avoided Harry's gaze.

"I was." Harry replied, and after a civil handshake, walked out the door.

Draco was still looking out the window. The wind tickled his skin, and paused to mingle with his pale blonde locks hanging around his face and neck. "I was, eh?" He repeated, taking comfort in the past tense.

000

"HARRY!" Ron shouted, bursting through his bedroom door, and proceeding to knock him out of bed and onto the floor.

"Damn....Ron..." Harry panted, trying to catch his breath after the scream that had left his throat.

Hermione stood in the doorway. "Ron, don't do that! You could have given him a heart-attack!"

"Oh yeah, that'd be all over the news. The Boy Who Lived is now The Boy Who Didn't Live Very Long." He wheezed. Ron roared in laughter, and even Hermione's lips twitched upwards in a smile.

"Mate, did you really go see Malfoy?" Ron asked when Harry had caught his breath and calmed his pounding breath. He nodded.

"Did you really _go_ and _see_ that git?"

"Yeah, I did! Why?" Harry asked, now in the bathroom and brushing his teeth.

"_You_ went and _saw_ Malfoy?" Ron asked incuriously.

"Yes, so what?" His voice was muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth.

"Mate, I can't believe you did that." The red-head said.

Hermione smacked the back of his head. "Ron, that's not a nice thing to say." Looking at Harry, she nodded and smiled. "I'm glad you visited him, Harry. He's probably grateful to see you even if he doesn't show it. After all, house arrest is a lonely occupation."

Harry frowned: Malfoy _did_ show that he liked the visit, even if he had broken Harry's nose in the first bit. Before the bespeckled man had a chance to shut the door behind him, Malfoy said, face still turned towards the window, "Come again." It was an order, but Harry had no problem obeying it.

He supposed he shouldn't be running off there every other minute; after all, he had an appearance to maintain. Even if he was currently on holiday from his incomplete training as an Auror, he _should_ have better things to do. Didn't he have a long list of things to do when he was too busy to do them? He did, but he couldn't remember a single thing right now.

Ron waved his hands in front of his face. "Harry? Mate?"

He snapped out of the self-induced trace and stared at Ron oddly. "What?"

"Harry, we've been calling you for a minute now." Hermione answered for him.

"R-really?"

"Mate, _where_ is your mind these days?" Ron asked, sighing and plopping down on a well-worn sofa.

"In my head, hopefully." He replied, and thought to himself how alike his answer his was with the one Malfoy would have given. Ron had opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him across, "I'm sorry, guys. Just a bit tired...I think I'll be going back to bed."

"You can't go now! We're still waiting for Ginny so we can go shopping together!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperation clear on her face.

"O-Oh, yeah." Harry looked down and realized why he had muggle clothes set out for today. "Are you even mentally present most of the time, Harry?" Ron asked, throwing a pillow at Harry's vacant, confused face.

Harry didn't think so. After the entire four-hour shopping ordeal, the only thing that he remembered was buying a box of chocolates. When he caught Ginny looking at him sadly, he quickly handed the box to her, and sighed mentally at her expression of pure delight. It was amazing how Ginny still thought that she was his girlfriend of sorts, when Harry hadn't really made any effort to get back with her after defeating Voldemort.

Looking back, he supposed he shouldn't have given her those chocolates; as it would only serve to inflate her hopes. And he was pretty sure he wasn't ready for any kind of relationship right now—he was up to his neck in Auror training classes, and this month was only time off before he had go and stay back at the Academy. Life at the Academy was alright, people were nice enough (he thought this might have been because he had just saved the world from Voldemort), and he had made a few acquaintances to get along for the next two years.

He had initially thought that Academy would be a waste of time—he had already defeated the greatest threat without any training, hadn't he?—but he genuinely learned many things every day he hadn't known before.

The chocolates that he had been forced (of a sort) to give Ginny were expensive as hell, but he couldn't make out any other way for telling her she was just a friend for now other than to buy two more boxes of chocolates and giving them to Ron and Hermione each. Ginny had looked crest-fallen, Ron had looked happy—the guy loved sweets—and Hermione looked like she had figured out the reason behind the sudden treat, and smiled pacifying. She was sitting by him now; her boyfriend having gone up to his bed and Ginny back to hers.

"You shouldn't have given in to her look, though, Harry."

He nodded, staring at the empty fireplace. The fireplace wouldn't be full for another six months at least; it was blistering in the month of July. "I couldn't help it. She looked so expectant."

"Will you go and propose to her too, if she gives you that look when you have a ring in your hand?"

Harry shook his head. "I know; it was stupid. I can't keep putting off telling her any more."

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. "I know Ginny. She still loved you after you two broke up in Sixth Year, but she's not the type to obsess over one person. She'll be over it before you know it."

The bespeckled man sighed. "I can't really go up to her and say, 'Hi Ginny, I just wanted to tell you that you're one of best friends, even though I dated you two years ago and have been putting your hopes up since then.' That'd just sound....really dumb."

"You shouldn't have let this drag on for two years."

"I know." Harry said. "But I only acted normal and she took it as something else—I even told her to wait for me! How was I supposed to know I wouldn't feel the same way later?"

The brown-haired women patted him on the back. "We'll figure a way out without too many broken hearts."

Harry took off his glasses and started cleaning them absentmindedly, even though they were spotless. "There's only going to be one broken heart if I yell at her that she shouldn't have waited, and if I tell her subtly. Don't you see? It's kind of cold of me, but I can't help it—My heart isn't affected at all, aside from some guilt, if we decide to go one with our lives."

"So you feel like you _should_ love her?"

"But I can't. I was love with her all last year, but she'd like a sister now. I can't imagine kissing her again, even though I should be forever grateful to her for waiting for me."

Hermione patted his back again. "How about we try and fix her up with someone else?"

This seemed like a plausible idea to Harry. "Yeah. But who?"

The brushy haired woman tapped her chin thoughtfully, saying, "Ginny is definitely likable, pretty, smart, and witty. I'm sure that this won't be hard. She needs someone with alot of time, since she can't stand being ignored..."

_Draco_...thought Harry. _He certainly has a lot of time._

"Someone witty enough to make her happy..."

_Draco...gives remarkably snaky answers._

"Someone strong and handsome..."

_Draco...is strong. He's pretty._

"She needs someone who is nice and thoughtful, and caring." Hermione ended, and looked at Harry. "Got anyone in mind?"

The jet-black haired man thought it over. "Draco....has a lot of time....is witty....lonely...strong...handsome...thoughtful, when he wants to be, and...I bet he could be caring and nice when he felt like it."

Hermione's jaw had dropped at the suggestion, but she raised it after a second later with a thoughtful expression. "You know...this might benefit both of them."

000

He knocked on the door, feeling a little foolish with Ginny hanging off of his arm. "Where are we going?" Ginny had asked, turning her fierce brown eyes on him.

"Err....to visit a friend of sorts." He had replied, and he now saw that Ginny had figured out which friend this was.

"That's so sweet, Harry." She said, her voice dripping with adoration. He resisted the urge to shudder, and instead just shook her hand off of his arm.

"You again?" The gate asked, sighing in long-suffering.

"Yeah. Going to let me in?" He asked, and it swung open, only to slam shut in Ginny's face. "And who might you be?" It asked menacingly, and Harry quickly stammered that she was with him.

"Take her then." The gate snarled, swinging open, and shutting with a loud bang behind Ginny.

"Mean gate, isn't it?" Ginny said shakily. He nodded, and raised the bronze knockers just like he did the first time. The same old man answered the door.

"Here to see the Master again?" He asked, and Harry nodded, wondering if a visit to this place was so irregular that everyone remembered it. It sure seemed so, since even Draco had asked before he had even knocked, through the door, "You again, Harry?"

Ginny stared at him. Since when did Malfoy call Harry anything but 'Potter'?

"Err...yeah. Can I come in?"

"If I said no, you still would, wouldn't you? I suppose they're no way to refuse you." Harry rolled his eyes, grinning, and stepped in the room with Ginny.

He noticed as Draco's smirk fell as soon as he caught sight of Ginny, but he supposed he must be wondering what such a beautiful creature was doing in his room.

"Weasely." He nodded formally, and Ginny smiled experimentally, nodding a quiet "Malfoy." back.

"Err...We were just passing the neighborhood and decided to come for a visit, since it seemed like it had been a long time." Harry explained, sounding lame even to his own ears.

_It's been like four days._ Malfoy's raised eyebrow said.

_Yes, well, I've missed you of sorts._ Harry's slight blush replied.

Draco smiled, although a bit crookedly. _Is your nose even fully healed yet?_

_I was hoping you wouldn't break it again._ Harry twitched his nose.

_How about I smash one of your teeth in?_ Draco ran tapped his front teeth in indication, and Harry took a precautionary step backwards.

The blonde man's eyes laughed. _Are you afraid?_

Harry put his hands on his hips. _Bring it on!_

_You sure?_ Draco's eyebrow was raised.

Harry stuck out his tongue—and stopped in shock when Ginny nudged him in the side. "What are you doing?" She hissed, pulling him down to the sofa opposite where Draco was sitting.

"What? He was challenging me!" He whispered back, and realized, when Ginny raised her eyebrow in skepticism, that she didn't believe him. Didn't she notice the whole sign-conversation right now?

That was the point—she probably didn't. Draco was smirking at him, which told him that he hadn't imagined it, and also that the blonde man was making fun of him for getting caught.

_You wait._ Harry narrowed his eyes and hoped it conveyed the message.

'For?' Draco mouthed, behind Ginny's back.

Harry clenched his teeth and made little cut-throat movements at Draco, who laughed inaudibly when Ginny hit him again.

"Ah...Harry, Weasely, refreshments?" Draco broke the silence, and called in the servant to bring up some drinks and snacks.

"Where are you now-a-days, Weasely?" He asked when the food had arrived.

Ginny looked surprised at being asked a question, but recovered and replied, "I've opted for being an Auror, since it was what I felt really alive doing, when I was fighting. I graduated from Hogwarts a year early...but I can't get admission into the Auror Academy until next year, so, until then, I'm at home. What about you?"

Draco laughed, but it seemed that only Harry could detect the false bitterness in his voice. "House arrest."

"Are you sure you don't enjoy being all lazy at home?"

Ginny gasped, hoping to the higher power that Draco didn't do something horrible to them after that comment, but he simply smirked and replied, "I enjoy it as much you hate having to work for the first time in your life, Harry."

"That was horrible of you, Harry." The red haired girl reprimanded, once they had walked out the gates. "You were so rude!"

"I wasn't rude, I was replying to his rudeness!" Harry argued, holding Ginny's hand and Apparating straight into The Burrow.

"The poor guy didn't even do anything!" She frowned, and walked off to her room, leaving Harry wondering if Draco had Ginny's fancy already. Surely, it would make his job much easier, but for some reason he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of the both of them falling in love that quickly.

The next time, when Hermione told him to leave the two alone for a little while; he didn't want to do it. He was afraid that when he came back in the room, the two would be kissing, or cuddling, or something equally...disgusting.

He kicked a rock into the pond in the Malfoy Manor's garden, wondering why he felt so jittery, and oddly jealous. After all, he didn't want Ginny anymore, did he?

No. The answer came to him easily, but it left him curious. If he didn't want Ginny, why was the green monster in his stomach roaring at the thought of what the two could be doing in the room together?

He looked up at the pale-green curtained window wistfully.

Through the very same window, Draco and Ginny sat stiffly in each other's presence.  
Ginny decided to break the ice. "He wants me to date you." She said, and wondered whether telling Draco this was even necessary, since it looked like he already knew it.

"But you don't want to date me, right?" He clarified, and brutally honest Ginny nodded.

"Good. I don't want to date you either."

Ginny took another long sip out of her cup. "What are we supposed to do? Even after I waited for him, I know he doesn't feel the same way about me as he did before. I only come along here to make him stop feeling guilty."

"You don't have to." Draco remarked. "Let the idiot stew in his own guilt. Why should we take pains for him?"

"Can we...just pretend to be dating? Only for a little while?" Ginny asked, her hopeful brown eyes staring up at him. "Only until he gets over thinking that he should have taken care of me?"

"I suppose so...I am bored very often." The blonde man replied, as confirmation. "I hope you're good company."

She nodded, smiling.

"I suppose I should be offended at Potter for pushing down his old girlfriend at me, and you should be too." He said, after a while of silence.

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know anymore. I've learned not to judge him for the choices he makes; most of them aren't really his choice at all." Sounds of footsteps were heard outside the door, and her eyes widened. "Start acting now?"

Draco smirked, and leaned forward on the coffee table with Ginny, so that their faces were only a finger's breadth apart. Harry opened the door, and gasped, and blushed in such an adorable way that Draco could barely stand not pinching his cheeks, despite the fact that he'd hated it when his aunt used to pinch his when he was a child.

Ginny drew back, a mock-blush on her face. "O-Oh." She exclaimed; Draco noticed how much of a convincing actress she was.

"Err...I'll just leave." Harry stammered, and shut the door behind him as he darted out.

Ginny's brown eyes caught Draco's blue ones, and they both stared at each other, and at the door for a bit, before bursting into barely hidden peals of laughter. Harry paused outside the corridor, listening to the loud laughter echoing through the walls. He had never heard Draco laugh anything but bitterly or mockingly; and was momentarily awed by how childishly free, and open his laugh sounded. Rich and full of emotion.

When he came to take Ginny home, Draco asked him for a moment to talk. The red-haired woman exited the room and the blonde man drawled, "Ginny and I are dating."

Harry's heart sank, although he should have been glad that Ginny had found someone.

"Why am I not offended that you pushed your girlfriend down on me?"

"Shouldn't you be?" Harry asked, not desperately trying not to beg Draco to stay single and leave Ginny, but failing miserably.

"No. She's pretty, nice, witty, and blood traitors don't bother me anymore."

"O-Oh." Harry said; his last hope had just sunk.

"Why are you looking so sad? Didn't you want Ginny to find someone do you'll stop feeling guilty?" Draco asked, his intense stare burning into Harry.

"Err...yeah...but...I...uh..."

"Stop mumbling. We're already going out, so if you've just gotten the cold feet about letting me have her, its too late." The blonde man said coldly.

"N-No. Congrats." Harry faltered; trying to push down the strange feelings of...what was it? Jealousy? Disappointment? And something warm and fuzzy going bad, for some reason.

"You're welcome, Harry."

And as he walked out the door, "Welcome again here, too."

"B-But won't Ginny be enough for company?" He asked, hating himself for having to ask it, and also for feeling all schmooty and furry inside at the invitation.

"Yeah, but I can't break her nose."

"Glad to see I'm so loved." He replied sardonically, rolling his eyes though it seemed like his insides would burst with happiness.

"Who couldn't help loving you?" Draco said, softly, but seemed to realize how that sounded and said in a boisterous voice (shattering Harry's happy feeling) "A-After all, you are the Savior of the World Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and The Chosen One, right?"

Harry muttered an awkward 'Yeah' and a goodbye, but didn't turn back in fear that the other would see his disappointed face. But in not doing so, he also missed the blush on Draco's.

000

"Shouldn't I be happy, Hermione?" Harry asked, after relating the entire tale, and watching Ginny prance here and there, happy as he ever seen her.

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"If I knew, would I be asking you?" He asked irritately.

"Harry, I'm not psychic." She sighed. "I can tell you only what you tell me, but can't put together. You have to tell me why you're feeling so unhappy."

The green-eyed man sighed. "The problem is, I don't even know that."

000

Ginny smiled at him, and asked, sweetly, if he liked Harry.

Draco had asked what she meant by that, and Ginny said that Harry had always sort-of like him. That was why he wasn't as happy as he thought he would be if the both of us starting dating, she said.

The blonde man had asked her where she got this information from—surely Harry wouldn't have told her thing like these.

"Hermione." She replied. "She's the one who's been filling me in on everything, so it isn't too hard for me to realize what Harry is feeling. He's a little hard to figure out otherwise."

Draco shook his head. "I don't think so. You can read him like a book."

She just shrugged, saying, "I'd never been able to." with a sorrowful note in her voice.

"Hey..." The blue-eyed man started, noticing her tone. "You don't still like him, do you?" Ginny shook her vigorously. "No. But I want him to be happy. And for some reason, I think he likes you more than he likes me, but is too emotionally dull to figure that out."

"And you don't mind....?" Draco hinted for her to go on.

She laughed, and replied, smiling: "That he's bi? I've always known. His first crush was on Oliver Wood, his first Quiddich team captain."

He didn't reply for a bit, and Ginny prodded him in the side. "Hey? I asked you a question."

"D-did you?"

"I asked," She began again, sighing. "If you liked him back."

"He has saved my life..." Draco answered in a round-about way.

"He saved mine too." Ginny said, and it was as if she was urging him on.

"Two...on the night of the battle alone." It occurred to Draco that he should be ashamed of admitting how many times Harry had saved his life, but it was like one didn't feel uncomfortable with accepting a gift from someone close to him.

"That means that I get in trouble less." Ginny smirked playfully.

"Yes, well, I saved his sorry ass once too. And tried to another time, but it was pure luck that he got away the other time." Draco mock-snapped back.

"Back to the point." Ginny tapped the table. "Do you like him or not?"

"I...He is entertaining, in the least."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Go ahead."

000

The next time Harry had stepped foot in the Burrow, he was bombarded by perfume and a jumping, squealing Ginny.

"Harry, let's go see Draco!" She exclaimed, and dragged him off before he even had a chance to taste the delicious fudge cake that was calling to him from the kitchen.

"W-what? No! Ginny, wait..." But there was no point in refusing anymore, since they had already apparated in front of the Malfoy Manor. The gate was much better behaved, this time, letting them in quickly, and they wandered up the manor by themselves after the old servant had opened the door.

"Can we come in, Draco?" Ginny asked, knocking on the door of Malfoy's quarters.

"No." Draco replied, but the red-head opened it anyways and stood glaring at Draco. "What?" He shrugged. "I just wanted to see what you'd do if I said no for a change. It's clear you have no respect for my privacy and permission."

"Oh har-har, Draco." Ginny rolled her eyes, and pulled him out of his room. "Come on, we're going for a walk."

To Harry's surprise, Draco recovered from the shock of being yanked out of his own room with ease, and he fell in a gait with Ginny, leaving Harry feeling oddly out. It's what you deserve for being the only one stupid enough to come along with a dating couple. He told himself nastily, and tried not to think that he hadn't really had a choice.

Ginny was being more flirtatious that he had ever seen her, even if he was too far behind to hear what they were saying. She twirled around Draco at regular intervals, ran her finger down his cheek, and was clinging to his arm like a lifeline. It made Harry incredibly jealous for some reason he couldn't fathom.

She touched her forehead together with Draco's, who grinned, and asked, "Is he looking jealous?"

"I think so. About time too. You're gorgeous, Draco, but I got back together with Dean three days ago."

He laughed, and replied, "Yes, well, you're pretty too, but I just can't abuse you like I can Potter. If I break your nose once it'd ruin your face."

"Thank you for being so considerate." She murmured, giggling against his shoulder.

"I should thank you for going through all of this."

"Just give me dibs on all the kissing pictures and it'll be enough." Ginny smirked, and watched as a deep blush spread over Draco's face.

"D-done." He stammered, and she laughed again at the shy tone.

Harry followed behind sullenly. He was beginning to wonder why Ginny brought him along if all she was going to do was act all chummy with Draco. It occurred to him that she might be trying to make him jealous, and that she was doing a good job, even though he couldn't figure out where the boils of envy were actually coming from. He was supposed to be happy that they got together, wasn't he?

Maybe he still liked Ginny...

Or maybe he was just overcome with brotherly affection for her that he couldn't bear to watch her in someone else's arms. Yeah, that sounded right. After all, they had known each other long enough to be siblings, even if they had gone a bit incestuous in the middle. And even if he didn't look at her like a sister, it would be like the sister of his best mate.

...Which would make her his sister? Again.

Whatever, thought Harry. All I need is to push down this weird envious feeling and I'm good to go.

After they had made a full round of the Malfoy gardens, Ginny insisted, noticing Harry for the first time, that they play Quiddich. They were evenly matched; all having been brilliant players in their Hogwarts years, and the sun seemed to retreat too fast.

The summer afternoon was now full of rust-golden light, and it had a peculiar quality of making everything look more regal and inviting.

Including Draco, Harry thought, watching the man step off of his broom and push his golden hair out of his eyes. In the rusty light, it seemed more of a healthy orange-blonde than the platinum blonde it was, his pale skin seemed livelier, and his eyes seemed more of a purplish shade than the brilliant blue he had grown accustomed to seeing. Not that it looked bad, Harry thought. He didn't think anything could look back on the lily and pink-carnation complexion.

Ginny caught Draco's eye and winked, making him blush, and said in an overly-dramatic voice, "You two, just stay here for a bit. I have to go to the washroom for a minute." She wandered off through the beds of the flowers—Harry had wondered why they were playing Quiddich above the roses where there was so much plain area available--, leaving them alone.

Draco looked off to the side; it was obvious that he wasn't going to start a conversation anytime soon. Harry took it upon himself to break the silence (however beautiful with the drowning sun) and said, feeling awkward, "Err...nice game, Draco." It was impossible to play an even game with three equally matched players, so they had just ended in a draw at the end.

"You too." Since when did Draco ever talk that low? Harry wondered. Their entire relationship had changed from trying to hex each other at every sight, to actually being friends, even if Draco was a little unrelenting at first.

"I don't think you had played for a while, considering your injury..." Harry trailed off, and realized, in a stupid moment, that he hadn't even asked about Draco's injury once after their meeting at Madam Puddifoot's.

"Is it well now?" He asked, already regretting making Draco play Quiddich if he was still in pain.

"Better or I wouldn't have played." Draco replied.

"Still bandaged?"

"No. They just came off two days ago." To back his point, the blonde pulled aside the collar of his robe to show a long scar tracing from his collarbone down under the depths of the robe.

Harry winced: it was still red, and the pale skin around it seemed to be inflamed.

"I-It looks horrible. Maybe you should sit down?" The sight of the wound was making him woozy.

Draco pulled his collar back up and slowly sank to the ground, with his back to the garden shed. He grunted, "Maybe I shouldn't have played today. Still a bit early."

The green-eyed man sat down next to him, worry etched on his face. "If it hurts alot, I could call the servant to give you medicine or something."

"Harry, I've lived with this pain a hundred times worse than it is now for over a year. It kind of builds up resistance."

He blinked. "O-oh. Alright then." He sighed. "I just think it's a little sad when people say that they have resistance to pain, since it always means that they've had a lot of it."

Draco leaned back against the shed and closed his eyes, just basking in the sunlight. "I think its a little sad that someone whose suffered as much as you thinks its sad when others suffer much less."

"I think it's sad when people don't realize how much they're going through." Harry answered, also leaning against the tool shed. The smell of roses and grass wafted through the heavy, lazy air.

"I think it's nice of people to stop and help out if someone is going through a lot." Draco replied.

"I think it's nice of people to let others help out." Harry said.

"I let you, didn't I?" The blonde man sighed, so quietly that Harry couldn't be sure whether the comment was meant for his ears or not.

"I-I'm glad." He said, blushing, but this time it didn't feel the least bit awkward. Everything was so perfect, so nice, and so warm.

"Me too." Draco said, the words making their way out of barely moving lips. Their faces were a hair's breadth apart; Harry couldn't imagine how nice, heavenly, romantic, it would feel to—He suddenly jerked out of that blissful dream and into reality.

_Didn't he take pains to make sure Ginny was happy with Draco?_

_He couldn't break her heart twice! _

What kind of a brother would he be?

"We'd better be going." Harry said, trying not to sound conflicted in his emotions, but he could see from Draco's confused expression that he wasn't faring very well.

"See you later, Malfoy." He had barely registered the use of Draco's last name, when the blonde man called out behind him, "its Draco, Potter." In that delicious voice. Not the throaty one he used when trying to flirt; but his normal one, which was so enchanting by itself, Harry didn't see the need for another one.

"It's Harry, Draco." He replied, out of habit.

The mosquitoes seemed to hum in tune with Draco's voice. "What are you afraid of?" He called out softly. The flowers danced to his notes, the sun shone to his beauty, night fell to contrast his skin.

Harry paused, and then brushed a fiery red flower with the back of his hand.

000

"You shouldn't have done that." Hermione frowned at him. It occurred to him how he came and reported every single detail of his visit to Malfoy Manor to her, without any feeling of shame or embarrassment. It might have been since he had helped Hermione with her problem with Ron back in their school years.

"Ginny will be hung up again." She said. "If Draco had said that, that means he doesn't really love her, and the last thing she needs is someone with fake affection for her."

"I know." He sighed. "But she doesn't need her brother-of-sorts stealing her boyfriend either."

000

He hadn't gotten the guts to visit Malfoy Manor all week. He was due to go back to the Academy the next morning, and he lay in bed, deep in thought.

Not giving himself room for second thoughts, and not being able to resist it either. The mean old iron gate was incredibly quiet while letting him in, and he stood there gazing at the window ledge of Draco's room wistfully. He could see through the lime-green curtains with the light on inside the room, and his eyes focused on the two silhouettes through the cloth and glass.

The short haired one said something, and him and the other girl, with long hair, laughed. Draco's and Ginny's peals of mirth echoed throughout the empty grounds, with only the rusty evening sunlight for company.

An incredible sadness sung through Harry's soul—he wasn't wanted here. He turned around and walked out the gate.

000

_Where are we? What the hell is going on?  
The dust has only just begun to fall,  
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.  
_

He couldn't believe how normal everything was, how normal everything was when he tried to make it so.

_Spin me round again and rub my eyes.  
This can't be happening.  
_

How could this have happened?

_When busy streets a mess with people  
would stop to hold their heads heavy._

No one cares. No one sees the pain.

_Hide and seek.  
Trains and sewing machines.  
All those years they were here first._

Our hatred is far older than our love.

_Oily marks appear on walls  
Where pleasure moments hung before.  
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this  
still alive._

Insensitivity, tactlessness of little things that remind us...

_Hide and seek.  
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)  
Blood and tears,  
They were here first._

We fought to shed each other's blood; we fought to see each other's tears.

_Mmm, what you say?  
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.  
Mmm, what you say?  
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah off course it is.  
Mmm, what you say?  
Mm, that __it's just what we need? And you decided this.  
Mmm what you say?  
What did she say?_

It is, isn't it? We'll forget it eventually, and she'll be happy.

_Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.  
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.  
Speak no feeling, no I __don't believe you.  
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit._

You can't act like it never happened.

_Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.  
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.  
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.  
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit._

You can't act like it changed your life.

_You don't care a bit.  
You don't care a bit.  
You don't care a bit.  
You don't care a bit.  
You don't care a bit._

If you did, things would be different.

000

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"How are you? I haven't talked to you for a really long time."

"It's been months since I came here, Ginny."

"You could have phoned. I had to now."

"I was busy. Sorry. How are Ron and Hermione?"

"Missing you."

"And everyone else?"

"Missing you too, but less than us three."

"Anything new?"

"Nothing really. When are you coming back? Aren't you supposed to be home in a few weeks?"

"Y-yeah. About that...my holidays have been delayed by another two months."

"What? Really? That's too bad. Draco was just wondering yesterday where you went."

"H-he was?"

"Yes. He had a fever that wouldn't go down for a bit—but enough about that. Tell me about yourself. Mum is asking if you eat properly."

"I do."

"How are your studies going?"

"Good."

"Made any new friends?"

"Yeah."

"Err...Like the teachers there?"

"Yes."

"Um...Harry, are you alright? You're only giving one-word answers. If you're busy—"

"N-No...my stomach is just..."

"Nervous? Have an exam?"

"—jittery laugh—no, I...I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. I was sure that I shouldn't be now."

"After all, you've given a lot of exams, right?"

"Yeah, I have. But none like this."

000

Why was it that whenever he was setting out to go to Malfoy Manor, he always shut off all second thoughts incase he got cold feet?

He had left the Academy with a one-day leave, saying he had urgent business to attend to. No clothes, no time to pack clothes, and no time to take clothes for.

The iron-gate looked at him with a raised bar to serve for an eyebrow. "Haven't been here for a long time, have you?" It grunted, and Harry just wished it would let him in. He wanted to go in, see him once to make sure the images of Draco pale and bloody from the wound on his chest were proven wrong, and come back out. That was all.

He let the Malfoy-insignia-shaped knocker fall the custom three times on the hard wooden door, and nodded absently to the little man who opened the door. "Here to see Master?" He asked, his wrinkles hiding his lips so that Harry couldn't see that he was smiling.

Harry nodded again, and the butler led up to Draco's room—how many times hadn't he imagined coming up here? Every curve in the banister was etched in his memory, along with the exact color of the stained-glass windows outside Draco's room and the musty, ancient, enchanting smell old manors always had, no matter how fresh and clean they were kept.

Knocking on the door, he heard Draco's voice, as thrilling as always to hear, saying, "Who is it?"

"Err...it's me, Harry. Can I come in?" It seemed so stupid that the dream he had dreamed so many times had finally come true, but at such a slow pace.

"If I say no, what will you do; deserter?"

"I will burst right in and leave you so soon that it'll really give you a reason to call me a deserter."

"And if I say yes?"

"I will...still burst in...and..."

"Oh for _fuck's sake, Potter!"_ Draco yelled, yanking open the door and flinging his arms around Harry, just rocking, holding him there.

"Whoa! Aren't you supposed to be sick?"

Draco punched him in the nose. "Not sick enough not to take you on."

"Wait! Aren't you supposed to be with Ginny?"

"It was a ploy you never fell into, doofus!"

"Wa—But..."

"Wait!" Draco imitated Harry nastily. "Aren't you supposed to be a bastard for abandoning me for _six months straight without a single message?_"

"B-But...I can explain...No..."

"Wait!" The blonde went on snarling, "Aren't you supposed to be a traitor for leaving me here with Ginny?"

"I-I thought you two..."

"Wait! Aren't you supposed to be a moron for believing that?"

"You guys acted it out so good I-I couldn't..."

"Wait! Aren't you supposed to be shutting up right about now?"

"B-but, _Draco, _you have to—"

Harry thought this was probably the best way in the world to be shut up.

000


End file.
